


Farewell.

by idgit_with_a_fidget



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Family Feels, Goodbyes, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, lots of angst and feels basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idgit_with_a_fidget/pseuds/idgit_with_a_fidget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor tries to persuade Loki to return home with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farewell.

“Loki,” Thor’s monotone voice cracked with an emotion he could not place- anger? Upset? Distress? Fear? Love, maybe? “Brother.”

Loki seemed to flinch at the word, wince as though it had stung him like a wasp’s needle. It filled his mind with poisonous thoughts and his blood with a venomous drive that throbbed wildly, manically in his sallow heart. He wanted to lash out in a blind fit of rage, tackle his elder to the ground and place his boot upon his brick chest, spitting into his face cruel barks and demanding snaps, the hatred and pain he felt; heavy like lead, like a great guilt in his soul: _‘How do you like it?! How does it feel?! Look me in the eye and tell me! Tell me what it’s like to be trapped, stuck beneath a great weight, forced to carry burdenous breaths; the bulk of a boisterous, foolish fiend that is so sickeningly innocently declared to be your ‘brother’ ._

Loki held his breath and chewed the insides of his cheeks gently. He must keep his snake tongue inside his head, sealed within the gummed prison. What would be the use in lashing out now, only to be once again punished? No more punishments. No more. 

Thor took a step closer and reached out to lay a hand upon Loki’s cloaked shoulder. The younger sibling froze, seized up like a hostile cat. No more. Thor reclaimed his fingers slowly, sadly. It took all of his might to avoid grabbing the emerald-eyed changeling and grapple him into a hug; force him to remember the childhood they had: chasing each other through the zig-zagged maze of hallways, pretending to slay Frost Giants when in fact they attacked pillows, playing Hide ‘n’ Seek with Heimdall –and losing. 

_I remember a shadow…_

The wind was an unpleasant and foreboding chill around their shoulders that slipped, sneaky like a snake, up into the hollows and folds of their clothes and boots. Although it was Autumn there was only dampness and grime, no crisp umber leaves or warm honey-suckle scented breezes that were predicted in stories. Thor’s cloak hood was lined with animal fur, whereas Loki stood still as though the weather failed to bother him, dew drops sticking to the avocado and black fabric of his clothes. His black hair was limp and soggy, and even his eyes lacked their usual gleam of mischievous glee, the aura of a trickster who knows under which cup the red pingpong ball sits (none: for it is up his sleeve). He dressed less in fineries, more in practicalities, saving the materials he had left, for exile from Asgard left him pitiful. There was no smile upon his lips nor confidence in his stance. His nose gestured to the sodden flora carpet of the wood and his breaths were soft, quiet, as though he daren’t show he was living in the presence of one who came from the place where wished him dead.

A plump-breasted sparrow bird crooned a Fall elegy. The trees in the wood swayed and bowed as though performing to the swan song, a rustling ballet of tired branches and weary charred leaves. Below their footwear worms and beetles moved sluggishly through the thickening mud. A fox sat patiently at the entrance to a rabbit burrow, the skeletal remains of a small fish on its lips and droplets of stale water on the tips of its drooping whiskers. Thor watched the fox as it seemed to watch him. Its orange ears flattened to the sides of its long face and it cocked its head inquisitively (or scrutinisingly) to one side. Green eyes flashed like treasure in a miner’s cave. The god wondered distractedly if the Giants had stolen the eyes of a fox and sewn them into the sockets of their son, or if it was the foxes –famed for their ruses and their roguishness- had designed themselves in honour of their most relatable Deity. Without offering an answer, the fox turned on its small precise paws and sauntered away, bushy tail swinging idly, lazily. 

“Why don’t you speak to me, Loki?” Thor questioned, somewhat desperate. “Why you stand in silence?”

“I have spent many days trying to speak, only to have silence and interruptions forced upon me by those I sought only to love and make laugh. Why should I try to make conversation with you now? Has something changed that suddenly makes my views and opinions worthy? Have you suddenly seen the errors of your past?” Loki’s gaze shifted impressively from hurt to challenging.

“Yes!” 

“No!” the word cut the air, shattered the quiet that reined like the king he wished to be over the trees and the earth beneath. “You have been put up to this, you have been persuaded! Why would you travel back to this polluted place just to see the brother who destroyed your kingdom, who destroyed your chances of love, who betrayed every rule and law of the Gods without a hidden motive? There is no compassion, no kindness in this return. You do this for your own reputation. Nothing has changed!”

Thor stared at the child’s trembling fists. 

“Loki, that’s not true-”

“Don’t lie to me!” his words were sharp as his teeth, as harsh as his jests. “That is my trait, my magic; I will not have you take that as well!” 

Thor’s brow furrowed, frustration escalating in his bones. His meaty fingers curled into hammer-like fists. He grabbed Loki’s arm and twisted it, forcing his torso to follow until they were face-to-face. His fox-eyes were hard and unforgiving. 

“I came here to check upon your wellbeing, to take you home,” Thor explained carefully. “I cannot spend another day alone without knowing you are safe. You may have done bad, brother, but I forgive you now. We are equals.”

Loki studied Thor’s face intensely, taking in every detail: every muscle twitch, every pore, every crease of skin, every near-invisible trace of scar tissue. There were tears in his own eyes, salty and bitter. They dripped onto his top lip and seeped onto his tongue as he parted his lips into a sad, sympathetic smile.

“Your words bless me with an atonement…” he murmured, and there was a genuine lift in his tone as he ran his index finger across the stubble that knitted around Thor’s jawline. “But your eyes, dear brother, deal me only blows to the heart. I cannot see past our virulent past, our sibling feud; you should never have come.”

Loki suddenly turned away, snapping his back to Thor so abruptly there was a draught of misty air. The bastard son had gotten skinnier. 

“You are Thor, self- proclaimed God of Thunder. You think only of power and show, not wit and wisdom,” he seemed calmer now, that bubbling boiling odium simmering down to a sinister simmering, like a firework that isn’t working properly, and can go off any second. “But I would rather spend my days in furnaces of my half-decomposing daughter’s home or change myself back into a silken mare than take your hand and join you in those golden halls, watching you grow drunk and bullish whilst I am given the blame. Is this my brother, beside whom I have played and been raised, not thinking of the consequences of a return of a traitor if I were to follow you across the Bifrost? You were a fool to think I would follow you back to Asgard, only to fall once more into the shadows of your rule, but such behaviour doesn’t surprise me; after all, you are blinded by the thought of valour and the selfish glory that would follow. I wanted to rule for good, to bring peace, not for showing off to women or for large meals and jugs of mead. I cannot change who I am, Thor, and I wouldn’t want to. I am free of the chains of Asgard. I roam where I please.”

Thor opened his mouth to speak, but Loki held up a pale hand and he closed it again.

“Don’t bother to tempt me with offers to rule alongside you, hip-to-hip like princes. I have sat on that throne; I have felt the glory surge through me. To be amongst those who wish my silver tongue plucked from my teeth and severed with sauce would only spur on dangerous plans, or commit me to a life of humility,” Loki sighed and rubbed his head. The fox reappeared, fur glowing like a candle’s ember. 

Loki took several steps forward, beginning to walk away into the closure of the forest. The fox’s ears pricked up and it sniffed the muggy air. 

“Loki, please, I-” Thor stammered.

“Don’t beg, Thor. Salvage your dignity.”

There was a long silence. Only the loyal fox stirred, grunting often, coughing or snuffling. Thor felt hot tears brim in his eyes but he brushed them off brusquely, sniffing loudly. He loathed seeing the back of his brother, a final farewell that neither wanted to utter; one out of resentment, the other out of heartache. Unsaid words: ‘I love you’ sprung to mind, but to say them would be to drive the sword into the neck of the argument, and Loki would be lost forever. The wind seemed to get colder. 

Loki stared into the middle-distance, wondering where he was going, not about what he was leaving behind. He had concluded the argument, there was nothing more to say. The fox panted and he looked fondly at it. Its black paws shuffled in the dirt. 

“Farewell, brother,” Thor called out at last, but Loki did not respond. With a swish of his jade cloak he nodded at the fox, who turned on its tail and trotted off, and Thor watched through bleary vision until both were out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
